


Observer

by Leyenn



Series: Vertigo [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Other, Plot What Plot, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's a lucky, lucky, lucky man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observer

He loves watching them. Especially watching them together, like now, like this.

Deanna has her padd propped on one knee, stretched out along the couch; has let one leg straighten as Beverly leans against her from her seat on the floor, an actual old book in her hand resting against Deanna's ankle. Her fingers are spread absently on the curve of Deanna's thigh, still for minutes at a time unless she moves for a moment, careful and light, and each time Deanna smiles a little more.

He loves watching them together here, in the privacy of his quarters. Of course this is the _Enterprise_, all forty-two crazy decks of her, and anyone could interrupt at any moment and usually will. But on those rare times like this, it doesn't matter, because he has them here and he's never been more in love than this.

The last candle fizzes briefly as he lights it and he watches them through the heat of the flame, not hiding his smile. Beverly shifts around a little more and lets her fingers stray a little further. Deanna smiles again, brighter, settling down a little more into the couch in that silent encouragement that's gotten him into so much trouble over the years.

"Mm." Deanna sounds distracted. Pleasantly distracted, since he knows that tone so well. "Beverly?"

"Hmm?"

He hears Deanna laugh as he turns to set up the old hotplate he's kept since he was a child. It's his turn to cook tonight, so he's doing it right.

"Are you paying any attention to that book at all?" he hears her ask, and grins to himself at Beverly's answering chuckle and the turn of a page.

"Not for the last fifteen minutes, no."

Deanna's laughter is louder, filling the room; a glance over his shoulder lets him see her drop the padd and look down affectionately at their lover. He grins and turns back to the task at hand, listens with one ear and half a mind to the conversation he knows is his to hear.

"Was it interesting?"

"I've read worse in Jean-Luc's collection," Beverly says, and there's the sound of Deanna moving as he feels the edge of her smiling in his head. He knows when she moves, from the muffled snap of the book and the soft laughs and then he hears/feels the kiss that brings them together, Deanna's love and pleasure in his thoughts and the sound of Beverly humming into the kiss, loud and wonderful in the quiet room.

"Mmmmm." She laughs again. He turns around a little to get a better view and the image captures his mind like a perfect moment: Beverly is seated on the floor, long legs curled up against the edge of the couch, stretching up a little to Deanna who's sitting up, one hand around her knee and the other gripping the cushion beneath her as she leans forward, and they're kissing.

Riker has the kind of emotional and sexual stamina that can only be developed from years of experience belonging to Deanna Troi, and still the absolute beauty and eroticism of that image - of the two women he shares his life with, both of them still in uniform from a long duty shift, cluttering up his couch with laughter and kisses - still it has that quiet power to completely steal his breath away.

He loves both of them. He's forgotten a long time ago to think about whether it's equal, whether it's more or less of what he feels for Beverly or what he's always shared with Deanna. Who really cares, when it means moments like this?

Try _and concentrate on dinner, Will,_ Deanna teases without breaking away, and he grins and shakes his head at her.

The element is hot enough to burn easily when he waves a hand over it. Still cooler, though, than the sight of what's going on across his quarters. It's a dozen years at least since the first time Deanna kissed him and some part of him is still waiting to catch his breath, so watching how Beverly reacts - that's heady and intoxicating and always very, very fun.

Minutes go by while he pays idle attention to the Cyndri dish emerging under his hands and just watches them kiss. The sound of Deanna's steady breaths and Beverly's gasp briefly in his ears, then swallowed again, as he catches Deanna biting softly and feels the arousal she senses from her lover's mind. She bites harder, tugs Beverly's lower lip between her teeth and sucks lightly on her tongue; he lets a hand creep to the dinner table as Beverly whimpers louder and leans closer and begs silently with her mouth for more. They kiss playfully, and slowly, and passionately until Beverly's kneeling up with her hand hidden between Deanna's thighs and Deanna's hand is in her hair in return, the side of her thumb caressing skin.

Another man might be jealous. Certainly there are men and Klingons he knows who couldn't stand and watch, although Will Riker doesn't know why, because Deanna and Beverly is a fantasy that's even more intoxicating in reality. It's the most aroused he can be without being touched. More than enough to occupy anyone's mind.

Deanna breathes and for a second he can see just the corner of Beverly's smile. She rises onto the couch with the kind of grace that makes sense now he's spent a few nights hearing the stories of her Academy days, and Deanna falls back beneath her like they've done this a hundred times, which they have; takes Beverly's hands and places them on her own body as if it's nothing unusual for them to touch this way, which it's not. A slim hand on her neck, stroking down, wanting to open her uniform and fingers gathered like an arrow and pressed between her legs. He hears Beverly whisper and Deanna laugh.

"I really want to touch you right now."

"Mmm... ah, Will's waiting."

He knows the sound of Deanna well enough to hear that slightest tremble in her voice and smiles, holding himself from reaching out to encourage her because he catches Beverly's eye instead.

"He can wait," she says, raising an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles. He wouldn't want to resist either.

"Go ahead. The master at work can wait as long as you want."

Beverly smiles at him affectionately. He grins back, if only on a purely Human, purely male level because he gets to watch - which always amuses Deanna when she senses it from him, like now.

"Kiss me," Deanna says, pulling Beverly's head down, and a curtain of auburn hair obscures his vision as their mouths meet in a deep, open kiss he can feel tingling on his lips.

Dinner can wait a few minutes. He wouldn't have cooked it otherwise.

He tidies the chairs around his dinner table and straightens the candles. On the couch Deanna makes a pleased sound and he looks up to see her fingers in Beverly's hair, a red waterfall spilling over the back of her hand. Beverly is smiling down into Deanna's eyes, a happy, comfortable little smile, tugging her tunic up, opening her pants at the waist and Deanna digs her fingers into Beverly's shoulder and groans softly.

He lets the sound run down his spine, smiling at them like this. Sometimes he isn't sure Deanna isn't more beautiful when Beverly touches her. Sometimes he really could watch this forever.

He catches a glimpse of skin on skin and Deanna reaching up, touching her lover so gently on the lips. "Please," she breathes, tugs one leg up against the back of the couch, wants to open wider. Beverly's still smiling as he watches her push those skilful fingers deep and Deanna sighs in pleasure. "Beverly, oh yes..."

Beverly moves her hand. He knows the motion of it, knows it's going to drive Deanna wild. "Mm, yes?"

Deanna laughs. "_Gods_ yes, like that." She's doing her best not to project this through the entire ship: he can see the focus on her face as she closes her eyes, and feel her digging into his thoughts even when he turns away to grab a pile of plates. They are a little low on telepaths on the crew right now, which, off-duty at least, he usually considers a good thing.

Moments later he looks over his shoulder and sees it again: the way a moment like this can freeze in his mind is a tribute to discipline or beauty, he can't quite decide which. Deanna's back is arched and her hips pushing down into the couch, into Beverly's hand, onto Beverly's fingers he knows are following light circles around her clit; her lips are parted in a soft gasp. Beverly is leaning against her gently, supporting herself with the other hand pressed into the couch beside her breast, smiling down into her eyes with love and mischief. It's beautiful and damnably erotic and it completes him, this life he didn't know he needed until he blessedly managed to meet Deanna Troi.

Beverly's face is flushed, she's leaning over more heavily: he chuckles just loud enough to make her turn her head a little and laugh his way. Her hand slows and Deanna trembles, bites her lip as she rocks with each slow circle of fingertips.

Beverly meets his eyes without stopping. That connection is electric, like sparks on his skin as she smiles. "Will?"

"I love watching you," he says honestly. She smiles wider and turns her attention back to Deanna. He can see her rubbing harder just from the movement of her arm, and Deanna moans loudly and muffles a laugh - the first out of deep, desperate pleasure and the second because even now she can't be lost to him or not hear his voice. She's close to coming, he feels it, even as she reacts to him, and this time he ignores any reason to turn away.

Beverly kisses her. Deanna arches her neck and kisses back, hungry and wild, and her strangled moan is muffled in Beverly's mouth as she comes. What that sound does to him is impossible to ignore, gives him the image of a dozen, a hundred times he's touched her and watched her this way.

He leaves behind all semblance of preparation and walks over to the couch. He's watching silently as Deanna grips Beverly's arm, not ready to stop, wanting more. They've all been this to each other for long enough now that it's easy and comfortable for her to ask, as easy as it is for Beverly to know the way she still wants to be touched and respond. She looks up at him as he approaches, and grins with that same mischievous glint in her bright green eyes. He drops a kiss onto her lips as Deanna's orgasm surges again under quick fingers and she turns her head to watch them.

_Will,_ she gasps. It's a sound of wanting, understanding, amusement and welcome and a dozen other things. He leans over and kisses her on the forehead, grinning at how eagerly she wants this.

"Rough day, imzadi?"

"Mmm." She's already wrapping her fingers behind his head, her thumb against the top of his spine. She tips her head up and he kisses her willingly again as Beverly strokes her hair.

Damn, it's going to be a hell of an evening.

  


*

  



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